Roughneck Raven
by WigginPeter
Summary: A developing tale of a minor PMC off the coast of Australia. Prologue is currently finished; Part One will be uploaded soon.
1. Prologue: Looking For A Good Sign

_April 25th, 1988_

Alan Edward Song walked through the busy streets of Darwin, Australia, sweating profusely under the sun's blazing glare. His only belongings were the clothes on his back and a couple essential items; a plain khaki shirt, dark green cargo pants, his small black wallet which contained only 40 Australian dollars, and a nearly empty water bottle, which he'd been refilling at water fountains and sinks as he went. Most likely, any passerby would have confused him for a homeless man, making his way towards some dilapidated alleyway to sleep. Alan's gait, however, reflected not a world weary beggar, but instead was infused with an excited energy, which was fitting, all things considered.

Barely a week ago, Alan interviewed for a job with one of the minor PMCs that had proliferated quickly after the revival of the soldier-for-hire business in 1984. Technically, this PMC was an adjunct branch of Diamond Dogs, and while it operated independently, the Diamond Dogs XO retained a definitive amount of influence. This PMC called itself Roughneck Ravens, and had hired Alan almost instantly once he had expressed his interest in joining their Intelligence Unit. Apparently, they were experiencing a shortage of reliable bureaucrats, and Alan's past experience doing financials was apparently enough for them. He'd been offered a position as an officer, free lodging on their base in the Timor Sea, and a palatable employee benefits package to boot.

Another five years spent filing wasn't exactly Alan's idea of a dream job, but the offer proved too lucrative to pass up. After only twenty four hours to think, Alan caught a flight to Australia, a nearly sixteen hour plane ride which drained him of any remaining funds. A malfunction with the plane, however, cost him a day's delay in New Delhi, putting him far behind schedule. This caused him to miss the shuttle that was supposed to take him to the Roughneck Ravens supply outpost outside of Darwin, and so, there he was, stranded in a foreign city with no money, no friends to help him, and no idea where to go.

 _Ok... I'm now on... what the? Mandjoogoordap Street? Who the hell named this?_

Alan craned his neck to check the way he'd came, just in case he'd missed something. He hadn't, though, and right now his only problem was that he simply had no idea where to go. He'd wandered around, asking passersby, "Do you know where the, uh, Roughneck Ravens, are?" Usually he'd receive a quick shake of the head, or a politely worded "no", but a Russian tourist he'd met outside of a coffee shop had given him a napkin sketch of the Roughneck Ravens logo, though he admitted to Alan had no idea where the supply outpost was.

"I come here for beaches and koalas," the portly Russian had told him with that Soviet smile that seemed to fit only on the features of large Russians, laughed heartily, and then bought Alan a cold soda, which felt like water in a desert to the toasted traveler.

That had been maybe an hour ago, and the temporary refreshment that the soda had provided had been lost long before. Alan was hot, uncomfortable, and just about ready to turn back and leave Mandjoogoordap Street when a white car shot past him, engines roaring. It had a geometric, angular shape and flip up headlights, and the sides were emblazoned with the picture of a blue bird within a black triangle.

 _Wait... that logo!_

Alan snatched the napkin from his pant pocket and unfolded it to its full height, lifting it up towards the sun to illuminate the ink. The drawing was a sloppy sketch, put together in barely a minute, but it was accurate enough for Alan to immediately realize that it matched the logo on the white car. The napkin fluttered through the air and fell onto the road, but Alan paid no heed to it as he desperately ran across the sidewalk, hoping to catch the white car at the next intersection.

He turned left at the intersection, scanning the busy roads for any sign of his target. A row of shops and cafes lined the sidewalk, and civilian cars milled around the intersections, moving in rhythm to the street lights. But no sign of the mystery car yet.

 _Is that... Yes!_

Alan took off much faster than he thought he could, throwing his momentum forward and pushing uncouthly through a family of 4 that happened to be in his way.

"Sorry about that!" He yelled, keeping his eyes on his only link to Roughneck Ravens as it took another left. If it hadn't been the afternoon rush hour, Alan wouldn't have stood a chance trying to catch up, but right now his quarry was stuck in a particularly slow section of the road, allowing him to run up parallel to it on the sidewalk.

He sighted the driver of the car, a blonde haired guy who looked at least 20. Alan stepped into the road, passing around a cherry red minivan as he made his way towards the white car's driver side window. The driver turned his head quizzically as Alan approached, and rolled down his window uncertainly.

"Need something?" The driver asked tentatively.

"Hey, I'm the new incoming Intel Officer for Roughneck Raven," Alan began, "Could you tell me where I can find the supply outpost?"

"You, a Roughneck Raven?" The figure scoffed, "And an Officer at that? Gimme a break."

Alan began to get indignant, "Well, I may not look like an Officer, but I assure you that I'm the new recruit. I did the interview, the HR guy told me to come to Darwin, look for a supply outpost, and then they'd pick me up and fly me over to the base. Honest to god. So, if you could tell me how to get to the outpost, that'd be great."

The driver shook his head, an expression of restrained amusement on his face, and sarcastically replied, "Yeah, and I'm the lost grandson of Tsar Nicholas the second, could you please tell me how to reclaim my throne and establish a new Tsarist regime?"

Alan's relief at finding a Roughneck Raven turned into furious panic as he realized that he was getting nowhere with his inquiries. Relinquishing his pride, he made a final plea for help, "C'mon man, I'm not kidding! I need to get to that supply outpost! I'm literally begging you!"

The driver of the car merely laughed, and without another word, slowly rolled up his window. As it slowly drew up, Alan saw himself in the reflection of the glass. Tall, gaunt, dirty, and sporting a grimy beard that certainly didn't help him look like an Intel Officer.

 _I look like a fucking homeless person, that's what. Nobody in their right mind would think I'm a new recruit for anything._

"To hell with you too, dickhead!" Alan wasn't a profane person, usually. But something about the heat, disappointment, frustration, and self-pity just made him so angry that right now, he needed to let off a little bit of steam. He walked back to the sidewalk once the traffic started moving again, paying little heed to the cars that stopped for him. Someone shouted at him to get off the road, and he broke out of his dejected slumber long enough to make a dash for the curb, feeling the movement of tires behind him as the people of Darwin decided that he was no longer in their way.

 _Now comes the part where I miss my flight and descend into a sorry life as an Australian drug addict. Maybe I'll go live with the emus for five years and then return for my vengeance._

He humored the ramblings of his mind, imagining that he would go find some other PMC to sign with, become an elite soldier, and track down the idiot in the white car and throw him out of a helicopter. He put a little more thought into the logistics of forming an emu army, but ultimately decided that there was no viable way to organize his imagined legions of emus into strategic positions. His third idea, though, would turn out to be one of his most important.

 _Wasn't there that oriental market building that had a "Help Wanted" sign? I'm probably the only Chinese person in Darwin... and I do make a damn good Boba milk tea._

The day's events had been predetermined by fate, Alan decided. And, apparently, fate didn't want him signing with Roughneck Ravens. He devised a new plan, one that involved working at the Chinese store until he had enough money to buy a flight home and then continuing his dream of becoming an actor of world renown. The thought lifted his spirits, and he hummed an upbeat tune as he traversed the short distance to the oriental market.

After 30 minutes of easy walking, made relaxing by the gentle breeze which had recently started, Alan stood in the oriental marketplace's main parking lot, shivering with what could have been either excitement, anger, or a mixture of both.

There, parked barely 5 meters from the front door of the marketplace, was the very same white car, sporting the exact blue raven decal from before. The only difference was that the car was empty; Alan reasoned that the driver was probably getting food from the oriental market.

Fate worked in mysterious ways, then. Alan pushed open the market door with a newfound confidence and crossed past stalls selling noodles and baozi until he stood in front of the familiar face that had rebuked him so rudely before. Alan took a deep breath, stuck out his hand in greeting.

"Hey, I'm Alan. Now, I get that we might have started off badly but I am the new Intel- Hey, where are you going?" Alan stared in shock as the man walked silently away from him, moving into an aisle as if nothing had even happened.

Alan felt frustration fill his body, and his fingers twitched like an electrocuted man. But, he needed to convince the man to talk to him, and so he swallowed his anger under a well-trained facade of freewheeling charm.

Following him, he weaved through aisle and aisle as the blonde haired man consistently turned to avoid him, either turning left or right at the aisle, and heading towards a different part of the market. Alan considered running to catch up, but figured that if he started running, the other man would follow suit, making the entire activity futile. The trick, therefore, was to corner the paranoid idiot. At the next row of stalls, Alan waited until the blonde hair of his tormentor passed out of his line of sight, heading left towards a group of stalls selling exotic fruits and vegetables. He clenched his fists inadvertently, and walked through the stall directly left of him, saying a simple "Sorry" to the shocked owner, who tracked his passing with an expression of extreme indignation. The ploy worked, and as Alan exited the left side of the stall, he saw the man he needed pushing his way through the crowd, taking worried glances behind him every now and then. Alan accosted him by surprise, grabbing him by the shirt as he passed, "Hear me out, for God's sake!" Alan said, surprising himself with the malice imbued in the words.

The other man seemed surprised as well, since he nearly immediately ceased to struggle, and adopted a more conciliatory tone.

"Ok, ok! I'll hear you out, you wacko, just stop following me!" Came the response, level in tone, but betrayed by a quiver of exasperation towards the end, which communicated the subtler, unspoken message of "Fuck off."

Alan was loathe to give up, especially since his only alternative was to work in the market for the next few months, and redoubled his efforts to charm his opponent into handing him some semblance of assistance.

"Look man, I realize you're busy, but I've lost my way to the Roughneck Ravens outpost. Now, I would completely appreciate it if you could at the very least point me in the right direction." Alan made sure to sound casual and confident, as if he was only asking the man to pick up a pen he'd dropped.

The blonde haired idiot looked at Decoy with an annoyed expression, but slowly conceded, "Yeah, I'm going to the outpost. I gotta pick up some tofu from here and deliver it to base."

 _Hail Mary, full of grace, hallowed be your name... wait, am I saying that right?_

Decoy decided to thank his God later, and settled for a simple response. "Thanks for that. I'm Alan, by the way."

"Uh, ok. I'm Aleksander. Why are you still here?"

"Well, I mean, since you're going to the outpost anyways, and your car has more than enough room to hold two people... d'ya think I could get a ride?"

"Sorry, but I don't have enough room in the car for you and the tofu. If I don't buckle in the tofu on the seats, it might rise up against me and cause me to crash."

The audacity of the comment made Alan do a double take.

 _This guy is scared of a tofu rebellion? What the hell?_

"Can't you put the tofu in the trunk?" Alan hazarded, hoping that it wouldn't offend Aleksander.

"Put in it the trunk. Ha! I wouldn't put tofu in the trunk any sooner than I'd put an emu in a zoo. You're just asking for the tofu to rise up and kill you. And I'm not stupid, I'll have the tofu right where I can see it."

 _Your kingdom come, your will be done, please for Jesus's sake help me._

"Well, I mean, couldn't I like stay in the back and watch the tofu? So it doesn't like, rebel against you?"

"Hah! You'd succumb to the melodious communist temptations of the tofu menace in an instant. They're persuasive, those white bastards. I can't trust anyone other than myself to deal with tofu. Now, before you waste my time any longer, I have tofu to go pick up."

And without another word, Aleksander disappeared back into the throng of people, supposedly looking for tofu to buy. Alan stood in the middle of the crowd, hand over his face, as his frazzled mind struggled to formulate a new plan.

 _Ok, this is a good idea... Uh, now I need a... paperclip should work...mhmmm... Yeah! Here goes... man, its dark in here!_

Alan felt his legs in the cramped, dark space which he now inhabited. When he'd first seen it, he had the idea that it'd be... bigger, or at least padded. There, laying in the stuffy heat of the confined room, Alan began to regret his actions. He barely had room to even stretch his legs! However, he soon found that if he pulled himself into a fetal position, he realized that the dark compartment was a quite comfortable place to take a nap. Since there was no telling when he'd get moving, Alan took off his shirt and bundled it up under his head, creating a functional pillow, even if it wasn't the most comfortable. After a day like this, he needed the sleep.


	2. Prologue: Enjoy The Silence

_April 25th, 1988_

The confines of Alan's temporary abode were suddenly filled with a rumbling growl which soon petered off into a softer, omnipresent purr, jolting the napping stowaway from his sleep. Seconds later, Alan felt his hiding space begin to move, which instantly cleared any lingering drowsiness that he may have had. He lay back on his stomach as the vehicle began to move back, then rotate, and soon begin to move forward. As they glided along, a deafening electronic beat began to permeate through the walls. It bounced regularly at first, filled with a cacophony of synthetic sounds, as if a baby had gotten its hands on a synth board and began to press buttons at random. As Alan listened, the beat began to increase in pitch and fervor, reaching a musical tipping point before exploding into a free for all of melodies, synthetic additions, and techno funk which washed over him like a tsunami. The beat at this point of the song was so fast that Alan began to feel his chest tighten, and he could almost swore that his heart had begun to beat faster than normal in that moment. He took a deep, calming breath as he pulled his legs in tighter, protecting himself from the deluge of noise emanating from the speakers.

God was merciful on Alan, though, and after only a couple more seconds of the feverous tempo, the song once again dropped back into a steady, rhythmic pattern much easier on the ears. The interesting part was when the vocals kicked in, spewing out verses about how the singer was "going to get you like a space boy," and other meaningless drivel that was quickly drowned out by yet another frenzied attempt to make as much noise as possible in a given interval of time, spraying out a supercharged collection of synthetic beats. This time, Alan was more or less inured to the phenomenon, and felt the tightness in his chest begin to release as he discovered a constant undertone within the music, guiding it along while still allowing for the kind of outbursts that he'd heard. There was only one problem, and the problem was that "Space Boy" by Dave Rodgers would be written in 1998, a decade in the future. That problem was instantly erased from Alan's mind by a simple voice which said only one word.

 _Wormholes._

Alan shrugged, history, he decided, was all based off of who wrote it. His trans-dimensional thoughts and doubts were placed on the backburner as a new voice entered the chorus, unburdened by the limitations of cassette tape recording. It sang along to the lyrics with barely passable pitch, obviously the vocals of an untrained singer. It rang harshly within Alan's ears, and at certain points he was tempted to notify the wannabe rock star of just how terribly his pitch was, perhaps give him a quick tip on adjusting your tone to what notes you can realistically hit. A satisfying but wholly wasteful idea, since it would most surely lead to his discovery, and if he was discovered, everything was for naught.

After 30 long minutes of lightning fast music, accompanied by the inept vocals of the lunatic who listened to it, Alan finally felt his body slow down. The room shifted to the left and then crawled backwards before coming to a complete stop. Alan heard a door open and then slam closed moments afterward. Another door was opened, kept open for what was probably 10 seconds, and then another slam resonated through Alan's darkness. He heard voices outside.

"92 minutes and 36 seconds, Leopard. That's almost 20 more minutes than your usual time. What happened?"

"It's not my fault. I got delayed at the marketplace because some idiot kept chasing me around the stalls, and I had to take some wrong turns to avoid him."

"Why was he chasing you?"

"I dunno, he said he was a new recruit and that he needed to come here, but from the looks of him I'd say he's a vagrant looking to bluff his way into a nice comfy job."

"Yeah, I understand. We get a lot of those nowadays, with all the recruitment we've been doing. Stupid bogans keep hearing about the employee benefits we're offering and think they can just waltz up and live with us."

"I've gotta go deliver this to Cobra before it's too late dude, but I'll catch up with you later."

"Before you go, Leopard, Commander Jackal wanted me to give this to you."

"Uh huh... Aw, shit. There's three new recruits coming in today, and two of them are going to be placed in Combat. Jackal wants me to give them the orientation."

"Well, what are their scores?"

"Uh, one A+ rank sapper and one B rank sniper. And they've both got combat experience, so my job shouldn't be too hard. Third guy is going into Intel, he's got no combat experience but according to his file..."

Aleksander, now known to Alan as Leopard, immediately stopped talking. The pause was long, awkward, and barely broken by Leopard's companion, who uncertainly began, "Hey, dude, you ok? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

The stammered reply came back with a tremble that exuded the fear of a man unhinged. "Yeah, y-yeah, I'm cool, just the file and something and y'know, stuff. I'm gonna go uh, check the tofu in with Cobra, so I'll see you around, Giraffe."

"Alright, have a good one."

Alan waited until he could no longer hear the receding footsteps, and then stealthily climbed out of the trunk of Aleksander's car. He was in the parking lot of a small plot, bordered by a chain link fence. A few steps away from him was the entrance to a rectangular mobile house, the kind you see at construction sites, and behind him lay the main gate, which had been padlocked shut.

His eyes strolled around as he surveyed the area for any sign of the two voices he'd heard. The parking lot was deserted, but the incoherent sound of voices could be heard in the general vicinity of the squat wooden building that stood on a makeshift bed of concrete blocks. A plastic outhouse beside the shack was also illuminated, betraying the presence of an inhabitant.

 _Well, time to make my grand entrance._

Alan composed himself, straightening his shirt and making sure to appear as presentable as possible. He hadn't come this far to be turned away for looking like a beggar, but given his current garments it was certainly a possibility. He wiped the sweat from his brow and stretched his legs in a way he hoped would make it less obvious that he'd spent the last 40 minutes curled in a ball. Satisfied, he strode up to the polished wooden steps of the mobile home and knocked twice.

Immediately, the voices within ceased to sound. Alan heard the sound of footfalls approach the door, which was promptly thrown open by a tall, brown haired man, who wore an olive drab uniform emblazoned with a blue raven patch on his shoulder. He stared at Alan for a few seconds, looking him over head to toe. With an unsettling, impassive face, he duly said, "Who are you, and how'd you get here?" Almost as if he was questioning a grocery store clerk about the price of a certain item.

Alan smiled warmly and stuck out his hand. "I'm Alan Song, the new Intel recruit. I need a flight out to base by tomorrow, and I'm told this is the place to be. How long until I can catch a ride?"

As he spoke, Alan's attention was drawn to the sheepish, apologetic look Aleksander was flashing him from behind his ally's back. He mouthed something silently, which Alan interpreted as being some sort of apologetic statement. It was tempting to make a snarky reply, but then again, he was new to this PMC thing, and he certainly didn't want to go around making enemies. He shrugged and put on an amicable face, hoping to get the message across that he held no hard feelings.

Alan was distracted by his attempts at diplomacy, so much so that he didn't notice the man in front of him grabbing him into a bear hug until he was firmly trapped in his grasp. He struggled moderately to send the message that he was not one for hugs. His wriggling, however, only seemed to increase the pressure on his torso.

"Ok, Ok, I'm good. Put me down, man. Please, I'm feeling a little tight here!" Alan increased his pitch on the last sentence as the vice around his rib cage suddenly tightened, forcing air out of his lungs. He could see Aleksander laughing madly in the back, though the face directly ahead of him remained impassive, his bored eyes staring into Alan's panicked gaze as he squeezed the thin frame in his arms.

Alan began to feel the vertebrae in his spine pop as their gas pockets were burst, and at this point he became convinced that this was no longer a joke, that, in their strange PMC ways, they had judged him a homeless trespasser and decided to kill him. His hands scrambled around, looking for something, anything, to help him escape his impending doom.

Salvation presented itself in the form of a grey disc, one of many within an open cardboard box. Alan put on a burst of energy, setting his feet against the doorframe and pushing forward with all his might. His assailant only moved back two steps, but it was far enough for Alan to reach one of the grey discs within the box. He placed his hands over it discreetly, feeling the cold metal in his hands, and made one last struggle to free up more of his arm. The instant his elbow escaped, Alan brought up his arm, and slammed the metal disk into the left side of his enemy's head. What followed would become immortalized as a Roughneck Raven inside joke, and form Alan's identity on base as a scrappy and clever soldier, even if he was... unorthodox, to say the least.

The impact upon the disc caused it to perform the purpose for which it was made for, expanding a giant rubber balloon into a life sized figure in less than a second. The deployment of the decoy threw the Roughneck Raven soldier straight into a stainless steel desk, where he lay unmoving. Leopard sprang to his feet, a shocked and concerned expression on his face. Alan grabbed for another disc, and held it out threateningly in front of him, waving it wildly, equally as shocked as Leopard at the sudden turn of events.

"Stay where you are! I'm not afraid to use this! You move, um, when I tell you to move, goddammit!" Alan spoke haltingly, trying to imbue his voice with as much malice and command as he could muster. He was already confused enough with the unconscious soldier lying on the desk and the rubber soldier that lay on the floor, and he certainly didn't need to add one more person to the mix, at least not until a few things were explained to him. He was indignant, surprised, and above all, really angry at the day's events, he'd dealt with the grubby heat, his own lack of funds, Leopard's unhelpfulness, and even confined himself to the trunk of a car to reach this point. Then, he'd been given the worst hug of his life and been forced to knock his opponent out with some sort of balloon disc contraption. He had no more patience left for the world and its games.

"What the hell was that?! Are you trying to kill me? For god's sake, I'm the new Intel recruit, I swear!" Alan yelled madly, spittle flying from his uncontrolled lips.

"Woah, mango, slow down! We weren't trying to hurt you! Just... squeeze you unconscious!"

"Squeeze me unconscious! What the hell?! That's your idea of fun? And why'd you call me a mango, huh? Some sort of joke? I'll knock you right upside the head with this thing, God help me!"

"Hey, there's no need for that, dude. I'm not doing anything. See? My hands are up..." As he finished his sentence, Leopard stepped forward towards Alan, grabbing him by the leg and chest and lifting him promptly into the air. Alan was by no means a soldier, but he'd studied martial arts, and he knew what a CQC throw looked like when he saw it. In the split second before Leopard would have thrown him into the wall, Decoy flailed around with his leg and kicked the box of grey discs with his free leg, hard. He heard the sound of hissing air, inflating the rubber pockets. He was dropped mid-throw, and had barely time to think-

 _Man, I'm a badass._

Three balloons inflated simultaneously, smacking Alan in the head, stomach, and thigh. The impact launched him into the doorway, where he felt himself connect with something fleshy and soft before continuing his movement out into the evening air.

He tumbled down the doorway steps and landed in the dirt on his hands and knees, wincing with pain as his exposed skin scraped against the ground. Slowly, he turned himself over onto his back, lying there for a few seconds while he recovered his breath. Just as he began to get to his feet, he heard footsteps approaching from around the corner of the house. An exasperated voice punctured the silence.

"I swear, if you idiots are sucking helium from the decoys again..." The sound stopped as Alan and its source locked eyes. It was the 3rd Roughneck Raven in the outpost that day, Stone Giraffe, and he'd just returned from having what he would later describe as the "best crap in my life". For a tense 3 seconds he stood there, before quizzically raising an eyebrow.

"And who might you be?" He intoned with the tone and body language of an annoyed teacher confronting a misbehaving student.

Alan pushed himself to his feet and backed away from Giraffe, hands locked into a sparring stance.

"Don't you try anything! I just incapacitated your two friends in the hut and believe me, I've got no problem with going for three!" Alan's attempt at a threatening speech was undermined by his shaking voice and quivering arms, a result of the extreme adrenaline rush that he was experiencing.

"Hey, hey, calm down. What do you mean by "incapacitated"? Are they tied up, did you knock them out, tranquilizer... Which one was it?"

Alan was shocked by Giraffe's casual, nonchalant tone. He showed no sign of aggression, nor did he make any attempt to step towards Alan. He merely stood there, looking Alan up and down like he was some sort of tree Giraffe had never seen before. Alan was surprised by this turn of events, but after what he'd gone through, he wasn't complaining.

"Well, I threw some sort of grey metal disk at them, and then a balloon inflated through the disk, which knocked the guy unconscious. Then, the other guy tried to throw me with CQC and I ended up kicking a box of those disks at him..."

"You kicked the box of grey disks?" Giraffe looked momentarily pale, which was then replaced by an expression of great annoyance. "Great, now we'll have to order another shipment of decoys from the mainland." He swiveled his eyes back to Alan, asking him brusquely "And what the hell do you think you're doing here? This is a secure compound, and since the electric fence hasn't been deactivated I'm guessing you got in through the main gate. But who even are you?"

Alan tried his best to smile and sound peaceful, but his voice came out as an unfamiliar, hoarse noise. "I'm here because I'm..." he swallowed, letting saliva moisten up his dry throat, "I'm here because I'm the new Intel Team member."

Giraffe showed no sign of surprise, reverting back to his staid, businesslike expression as he talked. "New Intel Team member, huh? Yeah, we were notified to expect one of those. Here, come help me sort out this mess in the hut and we'll get you onto a helicopter to base as soon as we can."

Alan shrugged, since he really had no other choice, and followed Giraffe into the hut, stopping behind him in time to hear him remark, with what seemed to be a strange mixture between amusement and worry, "Holy shit, this is rich. There's decoys... Everywhere! Fuck, I've never even seen this many decoys all inflated at the same time! This is going to take a whole shitton of work to clean up. Here."

Giraffe handed Alan a small survival knife, and then drew another one from within his pant leg. Alan didn't even have time to ask him what this was all about when he moved towards one of the inflated decoys and slashed it until it popped.

 _Oh, so that's how we're cleaning this up. Shit._

Alan sighed as he too waded into the jungle of rubber, hacking and slashing his way through the stacks of human-shaped balloons.


	3. Prologue: True Colors

_April 25th, 1988_

Rubber lay strewn across the ground, left motionless where it had fallen. A makeshift bed had been made by pushing two sofas together, which until recently had been occupied by Leopard and Cobra's unconscious forms. Giraffe had done a fine job tending to the two; Leopard had awoken with a start as soon as Giraffe popped a cassette tape labeled "Eurobeat" into a Walkman, and placed the headphones over the sleeping soldier. Cobra woke up shortly afterwards, and had a good laugh at the sight of three slashing through what seemed to be an endless supply of balloons.

The other two recruits showed up during the last hour of cleanup, though there help was still greatly appreciated by everyone there. They introduced themselves as George Manson, a combat sapper who'd served in Diamond Dogs for a year, and Dominic Chavez, a fresh recruit from Brazil. The two were quite surprised by the sight which greeted their entry into the room, but they were more than willing to help Leopard, Giraffe, Cobra, and Alan remove the mess.

Together, the 6 Roughneck Ravens finished their cleanup after almost 2 hours, and had opted to celebrate their victory over the decoy horde by snacking on the succulent tofu Leopard had brought back. They washed down the delicious white cubes with lukewarm cola from Cobra's "secret stash" hidden inside the sofa. There, sitting on a brown sofa in the rectangular wooden room, which was illuminated only by a dim yellow bulb, Alan felt satisfied for the first time that day. He reached towards another block of tofu and popped it into his mouth, feeling it dissolve into a moist sludge. As he sank back into the comfortable cloth of the sofa, he inquired to nobody in particular.

"Soooo, do any of you guys know when we can get a helicopter ride over to the Roughneck Raven party house?" said Alan, trying to sound as casual as possible to mask his growing impatience.

Leopard looked up from his magazine, which was titled "Driving and Drifting", and sharply replied, "I'd say maybe half an hour from now, since we had to divert the last one because of your stunt, recruit."

"Though, it sounded pretty cool, you know. Like, an untrained fighter defeating two hardcore mercenaries through a cunning show of skill" George had come to Alan's defense, even though the two had barely even gotten to know one another.

 _Trying to make some friends among the other recruits, I guess? It's a good idea, actually._

Giraffe smiled impishly, "Well, Leopard and Cobra aren't exactly what you would call "hardcore mercenaries".

"Giraffe spends all his time in a garage, so he probably can't even tell a real soldier from a civilian in fatigues." Cobra said this with a casual slyness, staring at Giraffe with a smug smirk on his face.

As Giraffe and Cobra began a long tirade of jabs at each other, Alan took the opportunity to find out more about George.

"So, you're a combat engineer? What kind of job is that?" Alan started with a basic statement, deciding to talk shop, a safe enough topic.

George shrugged, "Well, I work with defusing explosives and other traps in the field mostly, but I also have expertise with computers and other mechanical appliances. You'd be surprised how many doors can be opened by a good sapper, and I'm not just talking metaphorically!" He laughed at his joke, a short chuckle reminiscent of the cheesy cartoons Alan had watched as a child.

Alan gave the cheerful sapper an understanding grin, "I'll have to remember you the next time I lock myself out of my room."

"Sure, man, anytime. Though, if you ask me to open your door for you, I hope you won't mind me placing some thermite charges on it." George smiled mischievously, pushing his chin down towards his neck and lifting his eyes up comically, almost teasingly.

The sight alone was enough to make Alan smile in amusement and shake his head, "Shoot, man, just… hell, that's funny. But, anyhow… what's your story?"

Confusion clouded George's eyes, "My story? What do you mean?"

"Like, what's your history? Where are you from? How did you get here? That kind of stuff."

"Uh well, where do I start? I'm from the United States, Tennessee in specific. I had some financial problems after high school so I joined Diamond Dogs to stay afloat about a year ago. The plan was that I'd save up enough income to pay for college and then return to the states to learn Computer Science, but barely 2 months ago the Diamond Dogs XO, Master Miller, he comes up to me and offers me a 5 year contract here with all the employee benefits a man could ever want." George sighed pensively and took a deep breath before continuing, "I thought it over for a long time, but… I guess I'm here now, so you know the rest."

"Master Miller… Is he the same guy who founded that survival tips magazine?" Alan had read a few issues of the "Master Miller's Survival Tips Weekly" in his lifetime, but he usually found that most of the articles within the magazine were not actual survival tips at all, but rather thinly disguised rants on a variety of topics, like the cost of Czech pistols or whether the addition of a sauna to a PMC base is worth the cost (apparently it is).

George's eyes lit up in recognition, "Yeah, it's the same guy! Are you subscribed to the magazine?"

Alan shook his head, "No, but I know of it. Want some tofu?"

"Nah, I'm good." George took a long sip of his cola, wiping his mouth off with his hand, "I told you my story, now you go."

Alan nodded, "Well, I was originally going to try to be an actor, but I couldn't make enough money off of the paltry cash I was paid with, so I asked one of my friends where I could get a job. He referred me to Roughneck Ravens because he'd heard that they paid a lot and had a relatively safe environment, and since I didn't really have any other options, I mailed in a resume. 3 weeks later I got a call, did an interview with the commander here, and they hired me on the spot."

"So you don't have any combat experience?"

"None."

"What experience do you have, then?"

"Uh, I told them that I had experience with camouflage techniques and had a semi-successful acting career, and I also agreed to join their intelligence unit."

"Damn, they let you join Intel just from that? What kind of ship are they even running here? No offense, of course, but I mean, you can't just hire anyone now, can you?"

"Hey!" Alan feigned offense as he returned to bantering, "I'll have you know that I can cook up a really amazing Boba milk tea! It's one of my defining features as person, honest to God!"

"Boba… milk tea?" George inquired, "What's that?"

Alan was more than happy to share the information "It's a radically new type of tea drink from Taiwan. You see, it's just regular black tea infused with milk and sugar, but there are these tapioca pearls within it, called "Boba". The pearls are a kind of chewy little snack within the milk tea, and so you drink it with these extra-large straws that allow you to suck up even the pearls as you drink, making for a revolutionary new taste!"

George stared at Alan with confused eyes that seemed to say, "I understand your passion, but who the fuck puts tapioca in their drinks?"

Interpreting this as a personal offense towards his favorite beverage, Alan tried to reassure George that the drink didn't taste as bad as his expression suggested, "It sounds weird, I know, but I swear that's it's a good drink… Hell, I'll make some for you as soon as I get the ingredients, and you'll be able to try it yourself. What say you?"

"Uh, yeah, why not, I guess." George spoke haltingly, obviously not too invested in the matter.

Alan decided to drop the topic. "Anyhow…" he began.

The phone suddenly rang, a harsh noise that sounded like someone had smashed a car into a pile of bells. Cobra looked over knowingly at Leopard, who nodded tiredly before standing up and picking up the phone.

"Hello? Yes, this is Leopard. Yes. Uh huh. That sounds great, I'll tell the rest." Leopard covered the receiver with his hand and announced, "Helicopter will be here in, uh, about twenty minutes." Everyone remained silent save for Cobra, who muttered something that sounded like a complaint under his breath. Leopard was brought back to the phone by another burst of sound, "Oh, he wants to talk to me, huh? Yeah, I guess, pass him the phone… Hey Raven, what's up? Oh yeah? So, do you want to see the car or… o-oh? Y-you want to, uh, t-talk?" Leopard's face was slowly turning redder, and Alan could see drops perspiration begin roll down his neck. "Sheesh, Raven, I'm in public, for god's sake! O-oh, you don't care… Ok... Y-yeah, I guess I'll see you around… Ok… Bye."

Leopard placed the phone down so fast that he missed the cradle on his first try, and had to hurriedly pick up and place the phone back down again before it clicked. He spun around nervously, and stared at the group awkwardly before starting again.

"Y-ye, so as I said, we're leaving in twenty minutes, so pack all the stuff you need and meet me outside. We'll wait for the helicopter there." He turned on his heels and walked over to a sliding door at the back of the room, which he threw open before hopping out onto the afternoon soil. The rest of the group slowly filed out back into the front parking lot, but since Alan had nothing to pack he quietly made his way outside to where Leopard was standing.

Leopard cleared his throat and sheepishly looked at his feet as Alan approached. "Look, man, I wanted to say that I'm sorry for not believing you and trying to avoid you. It was… uh, unthoughtful and impulsive, so… seeing as how you managed to make it on time without my help, and plus, you knocked me out and all… like, are we good?"

 _No, we aren't cool, you sniveling lowlife! Do you even know how much trouble you put me through? I had to break into a car because of you! And not just any car, your car! If I'd gotten caught, I would not only be without a job, I'd be in prison! Just because I knocked you out doesn't make up for it either, that makes us even for Cobra's little hug of death!_

Alan's hands curled up into fists, and his lower lip began to creep upwards into a grimace, but it quickly dissipated. He took a deep breath. "Yeah, we're cool."

Leopard was overjoyed by the response, exclaiming in relief, "R-really? Awesome! I was scared that you would be angry or something, but I guess I was overreacting! You aren't even angry, it's just… wow, man, I wish I could get over stuff that easily!"

Alan wasn't really in the mood to be appeased, but he didn't want to seem brusque as well. "Yeah, I guess that's just how I am…" he said with fake sincerity, "Where are you from?"

Leopard seemed more or less surprised by the change of topic, but went along with it. "I'm from Perth, originally, but I've been living on base for the last 2 years or so, since the minute it was finished. Me, Jackal, Raven, and a few other guys... Armadillo is one of them; you'll meet him when he picks us up with the Hind, we founded Roughneck Ravens together. Everything that we have now was only possible through Jackal's leadership, Raven's knowledge, my racing skills…"

"Racing skills? How the hell do racing skills apply to the formation of a PMC?"

"Well, I mean, I won some money at street races and such, and then I gave it all to Raven so he could use it to expand the base, and I'm assuming he did, so yeah, I contributed." Leopard glanced around nervously before settling his view back on Alan.

"How much money did you even win per race?"

"Uh, a few thousand, give or take?"

"And how many races did you even win?"

"U-uh, give or take… six?"

"Eh, I guess that's ok, though I can think of many other ways to get money that doesn't involve high speed racing."

"Yeah, but are your other ways any fun?"

"I mean, depends on who you're talking to, right? I mean... Fuck!"

Dominic grabbed Alan from behind, sliding his right hand down his shoulder and around his neck, bringing him down into a rear naked chokehold. Then, he laughed.

"Got you, brother! I can't believe you didn't even hear me, dude, I mean, Leopard noticed me the minute I stepped out of the shack! Man, do you have wax in your ears or something?"

 _So that's why Leopard looked back so suddenly. Shoot, I've got to work on my spatial awareness… Could mean the difference between life and death one of these days._

Alan silently cursed himself for being so unaware, but simultaneously sighed in relief as he realized that there was no threat. His body relaxed, and he began to laugh softly, tapping Dominic's arm twice to ask him to let go.

"Damn, you're sneaky. Like, I didn't even suspect anything was off!"

Dominic smiled proudly and spread his arms out. "Talents taken from a life of burglary and assassination," he said suavely, as if he was a telemarketer advertising a product.

Alan swallowed dryly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "You're an… assassin?"

Leopard chimed in casually, saying, "Dude, that's pretty hardcore. How famous were you?"

"Eh, not very. I only worked a few hits, since burglary was a lot simpler and paid better. Of course, it was a botched burglary that landed me in prison, so who knows what could have been if I'd stuck with being a hitman? Maybe I would've gotten hired by some big shadow agency, and got to walk around in a nice suit and have a barcode inked onto the back of my head. That would've been nice…" Dominic trailed off, deep in thought.

Alan had one question left for the Brazilian criminal, "If you went to prison, how come you're still so young? Did they let you out early?" Alan already knew what the most likely answer was, but he wanted to ask nevertheless.

"Well, a guy who I'd done jobs for in the past, no assassinations, mind you, mostly extortion or helping with a few kidnappings here and there, he comes to me and tells me that he'll get me out of prison if I promise to do one more job for him. So…" Dominic paused and closed his eyes, clasping his hands together and tightening them suddenly. "So, I did the job, he got me out of jail, and then I decided I was going to find a new profession, so I signed with Roughneck Ravens."

Leopard asked the question that was on Alan's mind first. "What was the job that this guy asked you to do?"

Dominic's face hardened, and his mouth drew itself into a stiff line. "Unfortunately for you, brother, it's none of your business."

Leopard seemed to understand, because he dropped the conversation almost instantly, instead deciding to spend some time checking his watch, humming to himself as he waited. Alan was all alone now with Dominic, conversation wise, but he wasn't about to go poking around into a criminal's personal scars, whatever they may be. He was saved by the bell, though, because just then, the whipping sound of rotor blades reached his ears, getting louder by the second.

He looked up into the dusk, seeing the unmistakable silhouette of a Hind gunship as it flew towards the small outpost, and as the sound became deafening, barely heard the crunching footsteps of the others beginning to line up in front of the yellow and black helipad. Dragon was carrying by far the most kit: two duffle bags, a large rucksack, and a blue fanny pack around his waist. Giraffe and Cobra were only carrying a plastic bag or two each, filled with snack foods and alcohol, and Leopard had disappeared back into the shack, for reasons Alan could only guess at. Dominic's gear was similar to Alan's; nothing but the clothes on his back and a few items in his pockets.

The main question now, though, was where Leopard had gone. Alan shouted over the sound of the helicopter blades to Cobra. "Where's Leopard? He's going to be late!"

Cobra shook his head dismissively, "He's fine, recruit. He'll join us soon."

The helicopter hovered down mere feet above the helipad, and a helmeted pilot, Armadillo, Alan guessed, stuck his head out. "Everybody onboard! We've got a lot of distance to cover, and I want to get back to base before the sun goes down!" He had a strange accent, almost French sounding, but the thought was the least of Alan's concerns. The helicopter opened up its doors, and the 5 mercenaries began to clamber their way into the passenger hold, one by one.

"Wait! Where's Leopard and Giraffe?!" Alan shouted to the pilot as Cobra began his entry.

Armadillo put his hand out in the "OK" sign. "Giraffe is staying behind for now. As for Leopard, he's fine, we'll pick him up as soon as you get onboard."

Alan didn't really have any other options, so he quickly hopped into the Hind, using his right leg to push off the ramp-style loading doors and access the seating within. He watched in confusion as the doors closed behind him and the helicopter began its ascent, minus one Leopard. He rushed to one of the windows and looked downwards, towards the sight of Leopard's white Toyota. Armadillo's voice came over the intercom, steady and casual.

"Okay people, you might feel just a small bit of turbulence as we pick up Leopard."

Through the round window Alan saw Leopard's car suddenly grow larger, and begin to hover in the air. With growing concern, Alan realized that the car itself was actually attached to a large balloon, reinforced with 4 smaller balloons on the side. For stability, maybe? The car stayed motionless in the air for a few grueling seconds, during which Alan seemed sure that the balloon would snap, and then suddenly rushed into the sky with a whooshing noise that permeated the interior of the helicopter. Dragon sat up straight in surprise.

"What's going on dow-" he began, before a quivering shake went through the helicopter, pushing him into a backwards collision with the wall and forcing Alan to grab onto Cobra's shoulder for safety. The two veterans endured the tremors as if it was no big deal; Cobra merely stayed where he'd been sitting the entire time, not moving a single inch, and Giraffe just swayed expressionlessly with the movement of the chopper. Alan looked back into the window; Leopard's car was nowhere to be seen, and the outpost was slowly becoming a speck on the horizon as the helicopter rushed away. Confused as to where Leopard's car had gone, he switched windows, and was greeted by a sight so outlandish that it caused his jaw to slowly drop into a wide expression of shock.

The Trueno was still attached to the balloons, but the ropes fastened to the balloons had been grabbed by a long metal shaft at the edge of the helicopter, which held them tightly in its grasp. Below, sitting in the driver's seat of the car, Leopard smiled up at Alan and waved furiously at him with a sort of childish glee.

 _Who ARE these people?_

Alan waved back weakly and tried to smile, but as he dropped back into his seat, he felt only bewildered, weak, and tired. He laid his head back against the wall, and tried to relax. Before long, he felt the gentle waves of sleep rising up towards him, and welcomed it. Exhausted from the day's events, he drifted off into a thoughtful and deep sleep.


	4. Prologue: Sign Your Name

_April 25th, 1988_

A lone helicopter flew through the sunset towards the dark blue oil rig that stood calmly within the cold ocean waves, a lone landmass in the middle of liquid nothingness. From his position by the window, Alan counted six platforms altogether; one large central area in the middle surrounded by five concrete struts equidistant from the middle. They were imposing structures, exuding strength and power by their existence alone. Atop the decks of the platforms were scattered buildings, hangars, and watchtowers, which made it obvious that this oil rig wasn't actually meant for drilling; rather, it was a military base.

Down below, Alan could see soldiers milling around, chatting with one another and occasionally pointing towards the helicopter. He reckoned that there must be at least forty or forty-five soldiers outside, though he had no idea whether this was reflective of a majority of the base's full population. Behind him, Cobra and George were playing travel chess, and Dominic was just sitting in his seat, staring blankly at the opposing wall. Armadillo's voice crackled on through the speakers.

"Welcome to Motherbase, recruits. This'll be your new home for however long your contract lasts. Jackal and Raven are waiting for you guys down at the helipad, they'll give you a brief tour and orientation, as well as award you all with codenames. Cobra, go with Leopard back to the garage to drop off his Trueno."

The sound of the chopper blades slowly subsided, and as the Hind touched down on the helipad the doors slid open, letting in the dusky sunlight. In front of Alan stood two figures, wearing military fatigues decorated with a Roughneck Raven logo on their left shoulder. There was a woman with shortly cut blue hair and a man wearing a black balaclava which covered his face, and they stood expectantly at the edge of the helipad, arms behind their back. The woman spoke with a light accent, Australian, Alan figured.

"I'm Roughneck Jackal, and my partner here is Roughneck Raven. We're the commanders of this company, and we want you people to start working as soon as possible. Cobra, Armadillo, and Leopard, you are all dismissed. Recruits, follow me!" She turned away from the helipad and began to jog.

Alan looked with confusion at George, who seemed equally confounded. Dominic silently hopped out of the helicopter and began to run after Jackal's shrinking figure, which served only to increase Alan's bewilderment. Raven slammed his hand into his face, and said softly to the two recruits still within the helicopter, "You're supposed to run after her."

"SHIT!" exclaimed George.

"SHOOT!" Alan yelled.

The two recruits sped off across the deck as fast as their legs could move, sprinting furiously towards Dominic and Jackal, who had already reached a large, multistory building in the center of the deck, and were waiting exasperatedly for the other two to catch up.

Alan pumped his legs with all the strength he had, passing by laughing Roughneck Raven soldiers as he sped across the strut. Next to him, he could hear George running, breathing rapidly. George, however, had been a soldier before, and ran with much less energy exertion than Alan, who found himself tapping into all the bodily resources he had just to keep pace with George. It was no use, though, and Alan could feel energy leave his body at rapid pace, forcing him to slow down.

Alan reached Jackal nearly 15 seconds after George, breathing shakily and desperately as he collapsed against the wall.

"Made it…" he said breathlessly, straightening himself up to give Jackal a quick salute. "Commander." He said curtly, hoping to sound professional.

Jackal looked him over expressionlessly. "You came in last." She observed.

Alan could only stand there and look at his feet uncomfortably. "Sorry…" he said timidly, before composing himself and saying with much more bravado, "Apologies, commander. It won't happen again."

Jackal waved him away. "You don't need to be that formal here, recruit. Once you spend a little more time here you'll understand."

George interjected quizzically, "What happens now, then?"

"We're going to assign you all codenames. Follow me, please." Jackal opened the door of the building and stepped inside, not even bothering to hold it for the others. Alan caught the door as it swung closed and stepped inside, pushing it outwards so that George and Dominic would have time to catch it themselves.

The interior looked like the lobby of a regular office building: it had a few sofas and futons scattered around, with potted plants dotting the occasional coffee table or two. There was even a brown receptionist's desk, at which a bored looking soldier slouched over. Jackal pointed at him.

"Most troublemakers get a toss off of Strut B, but for Koala, I make him do receptionist duty for a day." She waved towards the tired soldier, "How you holding up there, friend?"

Koala sighed and slouched further onto the desk. "I'm dying over here Jackal. I swear I didn't do it. I'm clean now, don't you know?"

"Oh yeah, I know. We found out who it was, anyways. Turns out Giraffe was having some problems sleeping, but he didn't want to tell anyone. I gave him a toss off of Strut B and ordered some sleeping pills for him."

Koala stared at Jackal, dumbfounded. "You mean, I didn't have to sit here the entire time?"

Jackal smiled mischievously. "Well, I figured that it made up for the time I found you lying in the engine room…"

Koala threw his hands up into the sky. "Fuck you, Jackal. I'm going to go take a shower."

"Fine, but don't waste all the shampoo this time. I had to order some off of the usual schedule because you like to keep that hair of yours silky clean."

"Whatever you say, Jackal."

"Talk to me like that and I'll have you thrown off Strut B."

"Gladly."

"Two more days of receptionist duty, I swear it."

"Jesus Christ, that's cruel." Koala smiled and waved to the three recruits as he left the building. "Have fun getting your new codenames! You better hope you get a nice and threatening animal, not something dumb like "Koala," like I have!"

"Koalas are dangerous animals, idiot. Every Australian knows that," Jackal said banteringly, waving Koala out of the room. Once he'd left, she turned back to the group.

"Ok, back to business. Each one of you is going to get a codename, which has been chosen for you based on your assignment and personality. As per tradition, the first word in your codename will be an adjective, and the second word an animal. If you aren't satisfied with a codename, tough luck." She looked at the three with steady eyes as she reached behind herself and produced a clipboard with a few papers on it. She flipped to the bottom page and slid a pen out of the clip, hovering over the bottom of the board. "First up, Chavez, Dominic. Assigned to the Intel Team as an infiltrator. Codename, Silent Mastodon." As she spoke, Jackal wrote meticulous letters out with the pen, christening the new recruit as an official Roughneck Raven.

Dominic was expressionless. He merely gave a quick salute, and said, "Won't let you down," before stepping back behind Alan and George, who looked at each other nervously.

Jackal looked at the two with an expression of deep thought, as if trying to decide whether to accept them now or send them away before it was too late. Apparently, the former won out, because she moved the pen down an inch and said aloud, "Manson, George. Assigned to the Combat Unit as a sapper. Codename, Sapphire Dragon."

George turned over to Alan and whispered, "Sapphire Dragon was my old Diamond Dogs codename. Good luck."

Alan felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead. He would later say that it was just a result of a bad air conditioning system, but at that moment, all he could think about was the myriad of embarrassing codenames and adjectives he might receive.

 _I could end up being "Timid Rooster". And I probably will, given my luck. And then they'll have to call me "Timid Rooster," and then people will make cock jokes, and then…_

"Song, Alan. Assigned to the Intel Team as an investigator. Codename, Decoy Octopus." Jackal finished the clipboard, throwing it haphazardly onto a nearby sofa before regarding Mastodon, Dragon, and Decoy. She straightened up and stretched her back absent mindedly, and spoke to the group.  
"Alright, time for some quick orientations. Dragon, wait here for Panzer Rhino. She'll show you around the Combat Platform. Decoy and Mastodon, you're with me. Come on now, we've only got a few hours before nightfall." Jackal turned around and ran out the doorway, Decoy and Mastodon keeping a steady pace behind her. They jogged to the other end of the deck, where a dark blue jeep was parked at the mouth of a long, winding bridge that connected to another platform at the end. Jackal jumped into the driver's seat, and, since the keys were already in the ignition, started the engine with a quick twisting motion. Mastodon nimbly leaped into the passenger's seat from behind, and Decoy followed closely behind, though his attempt at vaulting over the trunk ended in him falling headfirst into the back seat, where he lay.

He didn't even have time to sit up before Jackal slammed onto the accelerator with manic glee, ripping the jeep across the bridge at top speed. Mastodon laid back into his seat and closed his eyes calmly, letting the wind catch at his hair, while Decoy tried not to regurgitate the tofu he'd eaten.

 _We're going to crash, we're going to crash, we're going to crash…_

Decoy kept repeating these words in his mind even after the jeep had slowed down, only relaxing after the vehicle came to a complete stop, and Jackal had left the driver's seat. She calmly got out of the vehicle, and Mastodon and Decoy followed close behind as she walked over to a massive, tower-like structure which housed a giant radome in its center, supported with a matrix of multilevel steel bridges and scaffolding suspended around the radome, which reminded Decoy of a "chutes and ladders" board. On closer inspection, however, Decoy realized that there was no way the radome itself could be fully functional. The dome was dilapidated, with multiple panels missing or beginning to fall off. The supports themselves looked almost rusted, and the yellow caution paint near the edges had worn into barely visible hues. A couple of tired looking soldiers stood guard at the entrance to the building, though even from here, Decoy could see one of them hurriedly put away a pair of earbuds as Jackal approached. In all, the Intel platform looked nothing at all like the Command Platform or its neighboring decks. In fact, it looked like it'd been assembled once, and then never even paid attention to since. Jackal stopped in front of the door, and shared a salute with the two guards. They pulled open the door, which squeaked as it slid open, and went back to slouching against the wall in a bored stupor.

Inside, a long hallway wrapped around the entire outer wall of the structure, dotted with doorways and the occasional fire extinguisher. Jackal stopped in front of a plain white door, which simply read "Barracks," and walked straight towards it, without even bothering to reach for a handle. The door merely slid open in response, and the three walked inside the Intel barracks.

The interior was in a hellish state of disarray. There was a strange smell that permeated through the room, which was only heightened by the laundry thrown haphazardly around. There were only 10 beds, too, and some of them were suspiciously devoid of any sort of mess, which suggested to Decoy that the Intel team was much smaller than it appeared. As a fresh wave of the smell assaulted his olfactory senses, Decoy began to start feeling a little sick. There was no way in hell that he'd be able to live here.

Jackal regarded Mastodon coolly, not seeming to notice the smell or the strained look on Decoy's face. "This is where you get off. Get some sleep, and meet me on the Command Platform by noon tomorrow for your assignment. Ram and Crocodile, the two guards we passed outside, have orders to assist you in any way you need, so ask them if you need any help."

Mastodon gave a quick salute, and then asked, "Where's my bunk, commander?"

Jackal smiled, and pointed towards a bunk at the end of the room, a totally clean one surrounded by other clean bunks. A gemstone among the dirt, surely. "You're over there, she said."

The stoic Latino crossed over to the bunk without another sound, and like a robot, fell on his back into the bed and lay there, eyes staring straight up into the ceiling. Jackal looked at him for a second longer, and then turned around. "C'mon, Decoy. I still have to show you where you are." She walked straight past him and passed through the door, heading right.

Decoy followed closely as she retraced their earlier steps, eventually exiting the radome structure the way they came. This time, the soldiers on guard were not as astute; one of them, "Blazing Ram," read his nametag, had neglected to remove his earbuds in time, and was caught rocking out to whatever tunes he had playing in there. Jackal grabbed his earbuds, and as she deftly confiscated them she calmly said, as if asking about the weather, "Strut B, tomorrow morning before Mess Hall. Raven will do the honors."

Ram sighed. "You got it, commander."

After a short walk to a neighboring deck, Jackal stopped Decoy in front of a three story building which looked like it'd been airlifted straight from south side Chicago. The windows were either dirty, boarded up, or just plain broken, letting air into the building's interior. A sad looking sign near the one metal door which led inside read, "Records Office". Jackal pushed open the door, which creaked so loudly that Decoy almost jumped. A rush of stale, dusty air flew out of the room, giving the record's office the feel of some ancient crypt, lost to time. Decoy grabbed his right wrist and squeezed it nervously.

Jackal reached into the room and flipped on the lights, revealing a decrepit area filled with tables, filing cabinets, and computer monitors, all which were in varying states of neglect or disrepair. Decoy looked around in shock at the level of destruction isolation had wreaked on this place. Jackal noticed his concerned expression, and nonchalantly said, "Well, you see, after we built this place, there wasn't much use for it, so it… fell into disrepair, as you can see. But, Roughneck Ravens is getting bigger nowadays, so the need for a proper Intel team has become more pressing… which is where you come in. You're taking charge of this office, and everything inside it. Now, this is a little strange, I'm sure, being given all this responsibility so fast. However, Raven is especially confident that you can handle it, he's vouched for your Intel expertise throughout your recruitment."

 _Raven… vouch for me? I don't even know the guy! I should tell her… But, then, she might make me sleep in that horrid barracks, and I'll lose my chance at a high ranking position… Oh man…_

Decoy was busy reassuring himself that he was up to the job when Jackal clapped him on the shoulder, causing him to yelp in surprise. Jackal disregarded his surprise and spoke quickly.

"Follow me, we're going to go to the second floor. That's where we'll start your job at."

"What's on the second floor?"

"The security room."

"Uh, don't know what that is, but alright, I guess. Lead the way."

Jackal turned her head and walked into a small doorway directly right from them, which led into a rectangular section of the building that housed a tall metal staircase, leading up. Quickly, she moved up the staircase, with Decoy following close behind.

The doorway into the security room was decidedly more reinforced looking than any of the other doors in the building. It was white, and had no handle, only a small keypad on the western edge of the doorway. Jackal typed in the code quickly, but not quickly enough that Decoy didn't see it.

 _20196, huh?_

The door slid open with a pneumatic hissing noise, to an unsurprisingly lacking room, inhabited by only one small monitor with a keyboard sitting on a plastic white table, and a similar table in the back of the room, which hosted a coffee machine and some instant coffee. Jackal passed by these things initially, heading towards a door at the end of the room's rightmost wall. She opened it, and led Decoy inside.

"This is your sleeping quarters, which comes with a mattress, toilet, and shower, though I don't know if the shower actually still works. There are also a few chairs in here, if you want to sit down and read a book. This'll be your new living space for the rest of your time here, so enjoy the perks of being an officer." She said it with such enthusiasm, Decoy might've almost been convinced that he was getting a nice place to live if he wasn't so paranoid and pessimistic.

Instead, he saw the room for what it really was. A small metal room, probably converted from a storage space, and an even smaller bathroom, which was grimy and probably had mold growing somewhere. The mattress was literally that, a plain white foam mattress that'd been laid out on the ground with a small pillow and a thin blanket, and the "chairs" available to him were merely 2 folding chairs that had been stacked up on the ground. Jackal moved over to get the chairs, picking up one with each hand and slowly walking out of the room. Decoy just stood there, and stared, but he knew that he was about to get really, really angry. His fingers twitched, and he squeezed his right wrist with all his strength.

He walked back out into the main room, where Jackal had arranged the chairs in front of the monitor, and was already sitting down, typing rapidly on the keyboard. Decoy couldn't control himself any longer. With a deep breath, he released all of his frustrations into a single, all-encompassing yell.

"What kind of benefits are these? That room is fit for a HOMELESS SHELTER! This entire building looks like a homeless shelter, and it smells like one too! Out of all the different struts, why does this one look like a ghetto?! This is just INSANE! You want me to manage this office, but this office is only fit for animals to live in! Why… why… I can't believe…"

Jackal looked him dead in the eyes, with a serious, "Stop Whining" kind of look in her eyes. It had the desired effect on Decoy, who ended his rant with a defiant huffing noise and looked at her warily. Jackal spoke, calmly and slowly.

"As the head of the Records Office, you are authorized to spend money within the budget allotted to you so that you may repair it, renovate it, or do whatever you want to do with it. For now, though, you're going to have to rough it for a day or two, depending on how fast you spend that budget money. As for your little… outburst, I'd like to think that this job is based on mutual trust. For that to happen, you need to trust me to be looking out for you, and I'll trust you to not screw everything up. Cool?"  
Decoy sighed. He was still wary of her offer, after all, how much budget money did he have, anyways? But, at this point, there was no point in continuing to protest. He nodded, "It's all cool. Now, what's next?"

Jackal slid her chair left, dragging an empty one in front of the keyboard. She tapped it twice with her hand, motioning for Decoy to take a seat.

"Now, I show you how to use the security room."


	5. Prologue: Bizarre Love Triangle

_April 25th, 1988_

"This is how you pan the cameras left or right; you should always do a full scan of every room you look at, to make sure you don't miss anything. These buttons control thermal vision, night vision, audio recording, and this slider right here controls camera zoom." Jackal finished explaining the basics of the CCTV system, and got up out of the chair. "Alright, now you try. Take a seat."

Decoy gingerly dropped into the chair, feeling the cheap foam underneath him mold around his thighs. The CCTV system was spread out on the desk in front of him, a lone PC monitor connected to a keyboard which currently displayed an image of the room he was in, allowing him to see Jackal sitting in the metal folding chair at his right. He massaged his wrists for a second, and then carefully placed his hands on the keyboard, feeling the raised plastic keys under his fingers as he brushed over them softly.

Jackal edged him on impatiently. "Look, Decoy, it's already eleven o'clock and I don't have all night. Start by switching between a few of the cameras and scanning a few rooms so you can get the hang of it, ok?"

Decoy sighed internally. He didn't need this kind of hand holding throughout the entire process; a simple note explaining the system would have worked for him. He wanted to say something of the sort to Jackal, but… It was the first day on the job, per sea, and he definitely didn't want to come across as arrogant, so there was no other option but to go along with it.

 _Ok, let's see, switch the camera to the mess hall._

Decoy opened up the camera console and typed "Mess 1" into the open space, and the picture on the screen changed to a view of the mess hall, the tables and chairs stacked up against the wall. He monotonously moved the mouse left, and then right, scanning the room for any discrepancies. There were none.

Jackal sounded bored. "Ok, that's fine. Next room."

The camera console opened up again, and Decoy quickly typed "Salon 2" on his keyboard, prompting the monitor to display a medium sized room decorated with 3 large sofas, positioned around a large television which was currently turned on. Strange. He panned left, and realized the source of the anomaly. Dragon was sitting on the couch, crossed legged, with a grey controller in his hands. A thin black wire extended from the controller to somewhere within the cabinets that supported the television set from underneath. Decoy switched to "Salon 1," and received a much better view of the situation. Dragon had set up a gaming console on the television, and was busy playing a side-scrolling shooter, controlling a muscled, shirtless hero against hordes of enemy soldiers. His eyes were locked to the screen as he furiously mashed the buttons on his controller, expertly guiding his character out the way of incoming projectiles.

Jackal wasn't as surprised. "Nothing special there; it's not lights out yet, so there's no reason to report him. All the staff members here usually have some hobby that they pursue in their free time… god knows there's too much of it here. Like, for example, have you met Leopard?"

Decoy nodded distractedly, and got to work scanning the interiors of the Medical Platform, making sure that no corner or wall was left unchecked in each section. Behind him, Jackal was making herself a cup of coffee, talking as she worked. "Well, Leopard spends most of his free time racing in his Trueno. He's a passionate street racer, and as you might have seen on your way here, his Trueno is a very valuable item on base. He races on the mainland during weekends, but during weekdays we keep his car in a custom built garage on the R&D platform, where our mechanics can tune it up and work with it to their heart's content."

Decoy paused. He didn't want to offend the commander, but… all that trouble just so one staff member could race his cars?

"That sounds… expensive." He finally said, trying to sound as uncondescending as possible.

Jackal finished pouring her coffee and hesitantly replied, "Well, it _is_ pretty costly for Roughneck Raven… but Leopard makes up some of the cost with winnings from his street races. Of course, then there are the time he loses, crashes the car, and we need to repair it… But, I mean, it's worth it. Leopard has had… problems, in past. His only real escape is through racing, so I'm more than willing to help him out with that."

Decoy was dumbstruck. Commander Jackal was not only funding Leopard's racing obsession with money from the company budget, but she was doing so out of pity?

 _Financing someone's personal activities under company cash, isn't that… embezzlement or something? Or does embezzlement not apply if you own the company? Who owns Roughneck Ravens anyways, Raven or Jackal? Should I say someth-_

Jackal seemed to read Decoy's mind, and snappily interjected, "It's perfectly legal, I'll have you know, so don't get yourself all worried that I'm playing favorites. Leopard is a valued member of the team, and one of the original Roughneck Ravens; the amount of help and support he's given to the company is priceless."

Decoy shrugged. What else could he do? The commander's word was the law here on base, and he wasn't about to fight the power on his first day on the job. He merely said, "M'kay," and turned around back towards the screen.

 _Custom garage… just for one car? What kind of madness is this?_

Decoy scanned around the Combat Platform's two story armory, taking in the sheer amount of weaponry that had been placed on those walls. Nothing else out of the ordinary, though.

 _I mean, Leopard's a cool guy and all, but nobody should get that kind of special treatment._

Fuming, Decoy didn't even notice Jackal go over to the trash can to throw away her coffee. When he turned around, she was already busy making a new cup. He wanted to say something, but he decided that he'd let her make her coffee for now, since it'd be rude to interrupt. Instead, he quickly inserted "Leopard_Garage 1" into the console and took some time to look at the custom garage dedicated to Grey Leopard's Sprinter Trueno.

The garage was a palace of car-related tools and gadgets, most which Decoy didn't recognize. There were tires stacked in the back, and a large metal workshop table in the back, covered in wrenches and miscellaneous car parts. In the middle of the garage was the Trueno itself, a white Toyota with angular edges and flip up headlights, as well as the same Roughneck Raven logo plastered onto the driver's side door. There was… something, behind the Trueno, though.

Movement.

Decoy sprung into motion, zooming in as far as he could with the camera. For sure, there was something moving on the other side of the Trueno, but the roll cage within the car prevented Decoy from seeing exactly what it was from the camera he was on. He hurriedly inputted "Leopard_Garage 2" into the keyboard, the hurried clacking forming a discordant tempo in the confines of the quiet surveillance room. He finished the command and hit enter, and the full force of the scene taking place on screen flashed like lightning through his mind and burned itself forever into his memory.

"Um, Jackal?" Decoy started, his mouth dry with nervousness. "You might want to come see this."

He pointed silently, towards the screen, zooming in so that Jackal could see what was happening from her position near the coffee machine. All he received from Jackal was an exasperated groan, followed by the universal sign of annoyance, the facepalm.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Decoy. I'm going to go down and break those two up, so shut off the cameras and go to sleep. I'll meet you in the Command Office lobby tomorrow morning at 10:00, ok?" Jackal seemed very tired now, her shoulders slouched and her tone bored. Without another word, she marched out of the surveillance room, heading towards the stairwell at the end of the corridor. Decoy briefly considered shutting off the cameras and letting Jackal deal with it personally.

 _I mean, it's not like she can tell whether I'm watching or not, long as I don't move the cameras._

Decoy tracked Jackal as she strolled back down the staircase, pushing open the door to the Record's Office with a less than gentle push. She walked back towards the Radome, heading directly for the jeep that she'd driven to the Intel Platform in. Decoy briefly considered shutting off the cameras and going to sleep, but the allure of people's personal lives was too hard to resist. Slowly, he creeped over to the security room's door and shut it softly, locking it with the gentle touch of a footpad.

Once he was satisfied that nobody would discover his snooping, Decoy returned the monitor to "Leopard_Garage 2," and surveyed the whole scene carefully, like a scientist observing an experiment. There was Leopard, pushed up against his Trueno, being thoroughly ravished by Roughneck Raven, who was greedily groping the blushing racer as best as he could. Leopard looked nervous and flustered, but he was going along with the whole thing, so Decoy decided that the feeling must've been mutual between the two. Raven was obviously the more experience kisser, though, since he was working his mouth harder than a politician under public controversy. It was… a sickening scene, to be sure. He almost felt sorry for Leopard, having to deal with that kind of "attention" from his commander. As he thought about that, he realized something, a bolt of neural lightning that flashed across his brain.

 _So THAT'S what Leopard was nervous about during his phone call!_

Alan grinned, and then started gently laughing, which soon progressed into a hearty chuckle. The situation was marvelous; absolutely perfect! Grey Leopard, the arrogant, daring street racer, making out with the same man who happened to be his commander, in the middle of a garage, at night. It was hilarious, and also quality teasing material. As he watched, Decoy swore to himself that Aleksandr would never hear the end of this from him; it was just too good to drop.

Back on screen, Leopard had been so pushed up against the Trueno by Raven that, when Jackal kicked open the door to the room, he had instantly fallen onto his ass, now sitting timidly against his precious Trueno. Jackal started yelling something Decoy couldn't hear, but he remembered that the cameras had optional modules for recording audio, and casually flicked the switch into the "On" position. Filled with static, but still understandable, words began to flow out of the monitor and into the small surveillance room.

"Raven, I've told you a million times, making out past curfew, or any time for that matter, is strictly prohibited, ok!? Especially with Leopard! Don't you know that he's working on his Trueno to prepare it for the PMC League?!" Jackal stuck her arm out and pointed accusingly at Raven, who was, for some reason, merely smiling smugly. He opened his mouth, and Decoy caught a glimpse of his tongue and teeth, which were… unnatural, to say the least. His teeth had been sharpened to points, and his tongue was much longer than normal. It was also forked at the tip, a detail that gave Raven the visage of an anthropomorphic reptile. Decoy had seen those kind of physical alterations before, in an article he'd read about Operation Snake Eater, the mission in which Big Boss was forced to assassinate the legendary soldier The Boss, who'd defected to the Soviet Union and given them two deadly Davy Crocket missile launchers. During the mission, Big Boss took on The Fear, a member of the Cobra Unit who'd been surgically altered to have a longer tongue and double jointed limbs, which apparently increased his terrifying presence on the battlefield.

Raven's alterations appeared similar, which begged the question, "What kind of idiot pays money so that they can look like a reptile?" as well as the more pressing question, "What kind of idiot allows themselves to be kissed by an idiot who paid money so they can look like a reptile?" As he began to think about the reptile kisser conundrum, Decoy was drawn back to the screen by another burst of dialogue, this time from a different voice. Raven had the kind of voice someone would expect from a reptile; sleazy and smooth, a voice that, no matter what you said, made you sound like a fast-talking conman.

"Look, Jackal, I'm not hurting him. Leopard and I were just… admiring his car, and we decided to take a quick stretch break and maybe fool around a little. There's nothing to it."

"On-base relationships aren't even allowed, Raven! You, of all people, should know that, because you're the one who created that rule so that you could get Queer Mongoose alone, who, if you don't remember, had to leave the base because of that entire scandal! I mean, Leopard doesn't even have the word "Queer" in his codename, and you're still trying to get with him? You know I'm fine with you guys… having your "relationship," or whatever you want to call it, but just… keep it professional when you're on base, ok? And don't, under any circumstances, interrupt Leopard's preparations for the PMC League. I want him to win.

Leopard nervously brushed himself off and stood up sheepishly, looking down at his feet. "U-uh, sorry Boss, I was just working on the Trueno and Raven came in, and well, you know how it goes. We aren't, uh, dating or anything, y'know. I, er, just like the affection, that's all."

Jackal seemed greatly disappointed, and shook her head at Leopard. "Aleksandr… I know that you've got a weak spot for anyone that wants to kiss you, but… why do you have to be so desperate? C'mon, even you know that you should be working on the Trueno right now, don't you?

Raven countered, "Come now, the League is in a month, Jackal. He's got plenty of time to work on his lovely Trueno, what's the harm if he spends one… or two… nights with me? Plus, he may not show it, but he enjoys it. I can feel it." He sounded so damn gay that Decoy was almost expecting him to pull out a rainbow flag and start prancing around.

Leopard shuddered in place, and though Decoy could only see him through the lens of the CCTV camera, he had a feeling that Leopard was only a few words away from melting into a pile of embarrassed goo. Raven turned to look at Leopard, smiling while flicking his tongue in and out of his mouth… was he trying to act suggestively? Jackal just stood there silently, looking at Leopard expectantly, like she was waiting for someone to give her a bag of food at a drive through window. Leopard turned from Raven, to Jackal, back to Raven, once more to Jackal, and then said something so quietly that not even the camera could pick it up.

The results, however, were obvious to Decoy. Raven shook his head playfully, said, "Well, well, whatever you say, Leopard. But when you feel lonely, remember… I get straight to the point." The homosexual lizard gave Leopard a parting kiss on the cheek, and sauntered out of the garage. Jackal stood there for a few seconds longer, looking at Leopard, who had slumped into the passenger seat of his car and was sitting there motionlessly, staring up at the ceiling. She put a hand on his shoulder and then left the garage quietly, leaving Leopard alone in the dimly lit garage. Decoy watched for a minute longer, but Leopard just sat there, unmoving. Accepting that the drama was over, he shut off the cameras and went over to the coffee machine to try and procure himself a glass of warm water before he slept. It'd been a busy first day, and there was still much to do tomorrow. For now though, all that concerned Decoy was sleep, as well as who he should talk to first about what he'd witnessed on the surveillance cameras.

Jackal waited a moment longer, making sure that all the cameras around her had deactivated. "Idiot," she muttered, "If he'd stuck with me until tomorrow's lesson, he would've known that the damn cameras shine a green light when they're activated. Can't blame him for watching, though, I bet he's just like Raven… Maybe the two of them can go do rainbow shit with each other, and leave Leopard out of it." She shared a quick laugh at her own comment, taking what humor she could find out of the situation. Satisfied that all the cameras were truly deactivated, she exited the blind spot that she'd been hiding in and headed back to the garage, where Leopard still sat. He looked at her as she opened the door to the garage, letting in a stream of moonlight.

"Y'know, I'm not interested in Raven or anything." Leopard just sighed and slid back into the seat some more. "It's not like I can do anything when he tries something. I just lock up and that's it, he's got me. I mean, I'm curious, but I can't even figure it out at my pace."

Jackal sighed, and slid into the backseat of Leopard's Trueno, making eye contact with the back of his neck as it rested on the seat. "I know, Leopard. You've told me a hundred times. And I realize that you're struggling with, well, depression, to be frank. All the psychologists on the medical team have agreed on the diagnosis. But still, you refuse the medication, and it's frustrating to have to see you like this. You've got to do something about it."

"I'm not going to off myself, especially at a time like this. There's still too much to do. But sometimes Raven helps me feel a little bit better, you know?" Leopard looked back at the ceiling of his car. "I know I'm depressed. Probably have been for years. But it won't affect me when there's things on the line. I drive, and everything except the car and the road fades away."

Jackal leaned forward, towards Leopard's seat. "Yes, and I've done everything I can to make sure you get as much time to drive as you can. All that I ask is that you stop letting yourself spiral back down like this, ok? You've got the PMC League in a month, and that's what you should be preparing for right now. Not making out with Raven at midnight."

Leopard threw his hands up helplessly. "I get you, but… Raven is a good friend, ok? I'll stop seeing him, if that's what you want."

"I know, Leopard. I know. We've had this conversation too many times already, and you just don't seem to understand. I am completely *fine* with your relationship with Raven… as long as it doesn't make you sad. But, every time you do this, it's always the same thing. You're angry at yourself for being so weak, and you let that anger eat you up inside. As for being lonely… there are plenty of girls who would go out with you, Leopard. You're the drift king of Roughneck Ravens, you've got plenty of humor, and you can more or less sustain a conversation without sounding creepy. You just need to find someone who listens to you, understands you, and can help you through this time in your life. Someone like…" Jackal's monologue was cut short by Leopard, who eagerly attempted to finish her sentence for her.

"Bright Hawk, I know. I've always kind of known, you feel me? She's accepting, nice, and she totally gets me. We've also been friends with each other for so long, I mean, it's everything I want and more. But… well, it's hard to go up and just ask her out, y'know, since we've been friends for so long and stuff. Like, because I've known her as a friend for almost a year, I don't think she gets any of the hints I'm dropping, ya feel? And if she doesn't understand those, and respond in kind, how do I know whether she'll accept me if I just come out with it, right? It's just so confusing, because I don't want to ruin our friendship, but at the same time… I've kinda developed some feels for her!" Leopard held his head miserably and slouched down in his seat, pushing his legs as far forward as they could go in the confines of the car.

Jackal just sighed bitterly. "I feel your pain, Leopard."

"Thanks, Jackal. You're a great friend. I feel better now, thanks to you. I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast, and I'll tell you my plans for the Trueno then, ok?" Leopard pushed himself out of the car and to his feet, and Jackal exited the backseat alongside him. She gave him a quick salute.

"Of course. See you tomorrow, Aleksandr."


	6. Prologue: It's Tricky

_April 26_ _th_ _, 1988_

Decoy woke up at the crack of dawn since he'd forgotten to close the drapes on his windows, which were currently letting the first beams of morning light into his room, falling upon the bare mattress and utilitarian chairs as they went. He briefly considered sleeping in for a little longer, but, he didn't actually feel that tired right now.

The bathroom door creaked as he opened it, but the faucet and toilet worked fine, if still a little grungy, and within fifteen minutes Decoy was completely ready for the day. A quick search of the closet revealed a basic, olive drab uniform with the Roughneck Ravens emblem stitched onto the shoulder, the same kind he'd seen on Leopard.

 _Grey Leopard, the guy who's being lusted after by a male lizard who happens to be his commander, and possibly by the other commander here on base. Though, to be honest, Jackal seems more concerned about him than anything. Which is probably what's going on, since from what I've seen, Grey Leopard is definitely someone people should be concerned about. He's a freaking lizard kisser, for the love of God. I mean, who in their right mind even does that? It's just… absolutely outrageous!_

Decoy was still musing about the lizard kissing conundrum as he walked out of the Records Office. He couldn't, for the life of him, put his finger on why specifically he hated the action. All he knew is that it was absolutely unnatural to him, and just thinking about it made him shiver with revulsion.

There were more pressing matters at hand, though. For one, Decoy had no idea where to go. It was early in the morning, around 5:00. And there really wasn't anyone around to ask for directions, unless Decoy started going around knocking on doors. That, however, was not an option to him, since, for starters, it wasn't very polite. Plus, he wasn't exactly relishing the idea of asking a groggy soldier for directions to the mess hall after waking him up at dawn, so Decoy resolved to find his own way.

He considered his list of places he knew how to get to in his head. There was the Records Office, right behind him, but he'd just left that sorry place and he was in no hurry to go back into it, at least not until he'd renovated it. There was the radome a little ways ahead of him, but of course, that was also creepy and dark, so there wasn't any chance of that. The command offices were visible from where he stood, though they were quite a ways away. To get there, he'd need to cross over to the first deck, take the bridge over to what appeared to be R&D, and then take an even longer bridge over to the command offices.

He only needed to be there at 10:00, anyways. For now, he'd just wander around, at least get away from the Intel Platform for a little. He chose his destination, R&D, and began to take the long walk over there, humming "Private Eyes" as he walked, which he found ironic, given the circumstances of last night's dramatic extravaganza.

The wind was cool and breezy as he walked, and the gentle smell of salt water floating through the air freshened up every breath Decoy took. It'd been long, too long, since he'd taken a good hike, and though the metal struts and military emplacements of Mother Base didn't make a great natural backdrop, there was a certain… charm, to it, at least once you stopped looking at the Intel Platforms. It looked almost like an urban jungle, with a slew of pipes, scaffoldings, and crawlspaces dotting the metal buildings. Decoy figured that maybe one of these days, he'd try to climb around some of the more accessible areas, and look for a hidden nook or something that he could turn into a hideaway. He absently scanned the exterior of the R&D buildings, in case they might have revealed a suitable space, but the dark blue walls showed nothing, and Alan duly directed his attention to other things, like the R&D garages in front of him.

 _Garages… Leopard's private one is probably around here, maybe I'll go leave a note for him or something. I'll say it's from Raven, and use that to lead Leopard into a prank, or something._

Decoy ran through a list of pranks in his mind as he searched up the lines of garages, looking for the one dedicated to Leopard's Trueno. After a few minutes of jogging around, Alan discovered a garage that had a simple sign stuck to the door. It read, "Garage Reserved for PMC League Contestants ONLY."

 _Oh yes, this looks like the place._

Alan carefully tried the handle, which, to his surprise, moved freely. The door was unlocked, it seemed, probably left open during the hurry of last night's events.

 _Well, all the better for me._

He crept into the garage silently, crouched low. The garage was dark, and he felt along the walls cautiously as he moved, hoping to find a light switch. A couple of inches from the doorway, he felt the smooth grooves of a light switch, and flipped it up with his thumb, illuminating the garage.

A voice rang out suddenly, making Decoy jump behind a small workshop table.

"Wha? Who turned on the lights, I'm trying to sleep!"

Decoy recognized Leopard's voice, but stayed within the cover of the workshop, hoping that the awakened would merely turn the lights off again and head back to sleep. His hopes, however, were punctured by the sound of a rifle bolt being pulled back.

"Cobra, I swear, if that's you, I'm going to put a hole between your feet. Quit hiding!"

Decoy considered his choices. He could step out, and hope that Leopard wouldn't kill him on sight, or he could keep waiting, and perhaps the ornery racer would calm down and go back to sleep, after all. He was so torn between the two choices that he didn't even hear the creeping of footsteps towards him until a light brown rifle was shoved in his face, with Leopard standing above him, looking more confused than anything.

"Alan? What the hell are you doing here? This garage is for members of the PMC Racing League only! What were you trying to achieve, unless…" Leopard's face grew dark, and his fingers tightened on the trigger, "Are you here to sabotage my car, you little sneak? I'd heard the PMC League was cutthroat, but this… you should be ashamed of yourself. Who sent you, No Kill? Or maybe those bastards in Stubborn Sheep? I want answers, or else I classify you as an enemy operative and you'll get to see just how fast this Enfield can fire in the right hands."

Decoy put his hands out in front of his face, in a reflexive act of fear. "I'm not a spy, I'm not trying to sabotage your Trueno, I just wanted to, uh… see it, since Jackal was telling me about how great it was, and I thought it'd be fast and shit and well, the door was unlocked so…" Decoy rambled on and on, spinning a tale that was 60% truth and 40% deception, trying to cover his ass, as well as the rest of himself, in the case Leopard decided to go through with his threat.

Leopard looked suspicious, still, but he seemed to buy the story, and lowered the rifle. "Yeah, I get you. The Trueno is a beauty of a car, as you already can see. A true masterpiece of engineering, fine-tuned for drifting and breakneck street racing, in fact, the Trueno was…"

Leopard kept talking, but Decoy had tuned him out by now, and was more wondering how best to disentangle himself from the entire situation. He needed to think of some way to politely excuse himself without arousing Leopard's suspicion. Revelation came from his stomach.

"Uh, I'm sorry, Leopard, but I need to eat something… Where's the cafeteria around here?"

Leopard stopped his inane talk about the physics of drifting, and said, "Yeah, it's over near the Command Platform. In fact, breakfast should almost be ready by the time we get there, do you want me to lead you there?"

Alan nodded, "Yeah, that'd be great, actually," he said, relieved that the situation had been defused. He stepped to the side as Leopard suddenly walked past him, leading him over to the door.

"Alright," Aleksandr said, "It's a short walk from here, so follow me." He set off into the morning sun, throwing the door open long enough so that Decoy could catch it on his way out.

They walked along the metal deck, talking vigorously, though more so on Leopard's part, since the topic was invariably the one most important to him.

"And that's how I ended up as a contestant in the PMC League," Leopard finished, snapping Alan out of the car talk induced sleep he'd been walking with for the last five minutes. Worried that Leopard might start on another racing story, Decoy hastily changed the subject.

"So, why do you use that old rifle? Does it have some sort of... special meaning, to it, or something?"

Leopard looked back at Decoy, "What, you mean the Lee Enfield? That's not just some old rifle, that's a family heirloom," he said proudly. "That rifle was passed down to me from my father, and it has seen more than its fair share of combat. My Lee Enfield rifle is, without a doubt, one of the most prized possessions I have."

Decoy wasn't too excited to talk about guns, but… anything was better than having to suffer through another one of Leopard's eager descriptions of street races, so he continued the conversation.

"You any good with it? I mean, you said that the rifle had seen its fair share of battles… does that mean you've used it often?"

"Am I any good with it?" Leopard scoffed, holding his hands out as if he was holding the rifle, "I'm not just _good_ with it. I'm the _best_." His hands shook upwards, simulating the recoil of a gunshot, and he calmly pretended to sling his imaginary rifle across his back _._ "I'm the best sharpshooter here, and it's for that reason that I run firearms training for recruits. In fact… I think I'll be seeing you at the range later today, since Jackal tells me you don't have any combat experience whatsoever."

Decoy coughed and looked at his feet, a little embarrassed. "Yeah, I don't. I think I'm only over here to manage the Records Office, though, so I don't see why I'd need any training."

Leopard laughed, "What do you mean you don't see why? We're mercenaries! Your job depends on how effective of a fighter you are, even if you manage the records office on the side." He looked at Decoy, who was beginning to turn a bit pale in fear, and tried to reassure him. "Don't worry, though," he started, "I'll try to help you out in whatever way I can. I know the people around here, so I can introduce you around and such, try to make you feel at home."

Decoy was surprised by Leopard's sudden friendliness, considering that just ten minutes ago he'd been threatening to shoot him, but, after all, this was the same guy who'd been making out with an aggressive, gay, and lizard-like commanding officer in a private garage.

But, after all, Leopard had reached out to him first. That was nice, and Alan was more than fine with losing some anger over the previous day's events, especially now that he knew of Leopard's strange little fling with Roughneck Raven. The knowledge had the strange effect of counterbalancing Decoy's previous frustrations with Leopard; now, whenever he looked at him, instead of seeing the rude driver who had rebuked him at Darwin, all he could think of was Leopard falling on his ass and being scolded from both sides by Jackal and Raven, a sight that, no matter what, brought a knowing smile to his face.

So as the two of them walked across the dark blue metal bridge, chatting about nothing in particular, Alan, no, Decoy, felt welcome here in this floating fortress, filled with a collection of eccentric characters that only a mental hospital would be able to rival. He felt that now, he was more or less "with" them. Perhaps not "one of them," but, after all, it had only been one day. He'd have to check in with Dragon and Mastodon at breakfast, ask how they were doing. And, of course, months of nonstop training awaited him, along with the equally daunting task of refurbishing and remodeling the Records Office. But, as the sun began to rise up higher into the sky, Decoy felt a rush of optimism. He was a Roughneck Raven now, after all, and there was no doubt about it.


End file.
